


take me back to where it all went wrong

by laughablyunimportant



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 11:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16240730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughablyunimportant/pseuds/laughablyunimportant
Summary: Damien gets a second chance. Just not for himself.





	take me back to where it all went wrong

Damien looks a lot like Rob's dad.

He looks a lot like mom, too, her dark curls and dust-brown skin, but it's dad Rob finds himself tripping up on, title on the tip of his tongue whenever he wants to call Damien over to him.

He said he's a relative. A cousin on a distant branch of the family tree.

Rob asked him what the truth was. Damien grinned and said, "You don't really want to know."

.

 

Damien knows what Rob can do.

He knows a lot about Rob. The names of his parents. Of his sister. Where he went to school and who his friends were. The hidden underwear catalogue he had under his mattress, staring at it and trying to figure out what the big deal was.

"You're not interested in that stuff," Damien said. "You've got something that feels better than sex ever could."

He sounds weirdly jealous and proud when he says it. Rob wonders, not for the first time, what Damien wants from him. As far as he can tell, it's just to listen.

"I know how it works," he says, "because I used to have an ability just like it."

"Used to?" Rob asks. "It went away?" Scared and hopeful at the same time.

A grimace masquerading as a grin, teeth bared. "Someone beat it out of me." He laughs at Rob's expression. "Don't worry, it won't happen to you. I won't let it. Nearly killed me, anyway."

Rob's relieved. Rob's disappointed. Rob feels a pang of regret that the only other person with his ability doesnt have it anymore, and a greedy satisfaction that he's the only one again.

.

 

Damien says they have to move.

"Why?" It comes out a petulant whine. Rob berates himself; he's thirteen, not some kid.

"Your parents sold the house. You can't keep the real estate agent away forever."

"Yes I can. I'm better at it, I'm getting better."

There's something off about his grin this time. Almost...sad. But that's not right. Damien doesn't get sad. He'll be happy or arrogant or bitter and angry, but not sad. "You can't control everyone all the time," he says. "Sometimes you need to know when it's time to move on."

.

 

There are places Damien won't go.

He's content to linger around Phoenix for a while. But when he says they should move on and Rob suggests Vegas, he shuts it down fast. Rob doesn't mean to push it, but his ability doesn't care what he means, and Damien almost reconsiders before he realizes what's happening and explodes.

" _You piece of shit_ ," he snarls. "How fucking _dare_ you?"

Rob runs.

Damien finds him. Damien always finds him.

And then Damien apologizes. (Damien never apologizes.)

"There was one other person who could do what we do," he says.

Rob sits up, listening.

"He wasn't born with it. He doesn't know what it's like to live with it every second of your life. To have it working on the people around you before you even know what it is or what the rules are. But he could copy it. He could do it, as long as he was around me. And he made me..."

Rob waits. The rest of that sentence never comes.

"I won't do it again," he offers, small.

"Yeah you will," Damien says, resigned. "You can't stop wanting things." He heads off Rob's protest, "And I don't want you to. I overreacted. That's on me, not you. What you need to work on is being aware of what you want, and knowing when to bail on a situation that's headed south."

"Like run away?"

"Tactical retreat," Damien says. Then, almost to himself, "Not every conversation has to be face to face."

Rob finds himself blinking in surprise. That hadn't actually occurred to him. And by the bitter tone Damien uses, he's not the only one.

.

 

"Who are you, really?" Rob asks. The answer (what he thinks is the answer) sits in his gut like a lead weight.

Damien looks at him. His tone is surprisingly gentle when he says again, "You don't want to know."

"Maybe my ability doesn't," Rob says, "But I do." His chest aches with the pounding thump of his heart.

Damien's taken aback by that, doesn't seem to know what to say for a bit. Finally, "Who do you think?"

Rob doesn't want to tell him.

"Nevermind," Damien says.

"I think you're me," Rob rushes to say. "From the future." He says it fast enough that the embarrassment doesn't catch up to him until after.

A lopsided smile, strained. "Got it in one."

"Why?" Rob asks. He knows his ability is pushing, but if there's anyone he's allowed to push, it's got to be himself.

Damien holds out a long, long time. "Nobody should be alone. Not like that."

Rob feels...fragile. Hollowed out. Like Damien's spoken such a simple, core truth to him that he might die from the cut of it.

 _I don't need anyone_. The protest is a ridiculous, flimsy thing. Of course Damien wouldn't buy it. If anyone knows Rob's truth, it's him.

So what he chokes out instead is, "Thank you."

Damien looks up. He seems surprised. Almost wary. "You're welcome."

"So what now?"

Damien gets a far off, distant look. "There's some people I need to talk to in Cinncinati. It's only a few months before she gets her learner's permit, and she's going to be pissed if I got the power to go back in time and didn't change _that_." He focuses again, looking at Rob, and shrugs. "After that, who knows."

Future stuff. "Cool."

.

 

When they're on Route 66, forty miles outside Tulsa, all four windows rolled down, Damien turns up the radio. "Haven't heard this song in forever!" he shouts over the dusty air reverberating through the car. Rob watches the way he taps out the rhythm on the steering wheel, humming along or throwing out lyrics, one word at a time as his memory spottily drags them up. He shoots Rob an encouraging look, like, aren't you going to join in?

Rob does, hesitant, voice thin and high but a lot more lyrically accurate than Damien's. Damien cedes the vocals to him, continuing to tap tap the steering wheel and bob his head along. It's more animated than Rob can remember seeing him ever, and he can imagine Damien in a car, somewhere in the future, listening to what must be an oldies station by then, remembering...

...making this drive alone. Or hitch-hiking, more like. Not singing with anyone, or putting on a performance, already certain in the knowledge that he was better than the rest of humanity, and he'd better act like it.

 _Oh_ , Rob realizes, and looks at Damien with new eyes. _You didn't mean me._

Damien spots him staring. "What?" He has to shout over the wind.

"Nothing!" Rob shouts back. "You're a terrible singer!"

Damien narrows his eyes, then smirks. "Then so're you!"

"Yup!" Rob agrees.

Damien stares. Then he throws back his head, and laughs.


End file.
